Just as Shi Feiyang's toes touched the window ledge, he suddenly felt a gust of wind behind his head.
Bai Renfeng had unexpectedly returned, and it was unclear when he had acquired a poisoned soft whip, its tip entwined with twelve iron thistles, slicing the air with the sound reminiscent of a night owl's prolonged wail.
"Shi Feiyang, prepare to die!" Bai Renfeng's bandage at the severed arm seeped black blood, but his eyes burned with a frenzied killing intent, the soft whip snaking toward Shi Feiyang's vital point at the center of his back.
Shi Feiyang spun his body, stepping sharply aside, deploying the "Deep Concealment of Body and Name" technique, his dark outfit leaving three residual shadows in the moonlight. The soft whip grazed his shoulder, the iron thistles pounding the green bricks, creating a crater the size of a bowl, with splintered stones spewing a ghostly green poisonous smoke.
